All Bets Are Off
by TheGirlWhoWouldn'tGrowUp
Summary: When Annabelle Delancy is kicked out for being fired from her job at the factory a kind newsboy takes her in. From the world of "Five Thousand Reasons To Try" and "New York Underworld".
1. Chapter 1

The Delanceys hated Annabelle. Oscar and Morris hated her because she reminded them of their mother and Mr. Weasel hated her because she reminded them of his sister. And when she got fired from her job at the factory they had the perfect reason to get rid of her.

"Get outta here ya no good lazy girl!" said her Uncle Weasel as he pushed her out the door.

"Bye, Sis." Morris smirked as Oscar threw the small bag of her few belongings on the ground.

Annabelle picked up her bag and stomped down the steps. She slammed the circulation building door loudly as she left.

It was a cold winter night outside. A light snow was beginning to fall. Annabelle walked a few blocks in the dark.

It all hit Annabelle at once. Where was she going to go? She had no other relatives besides her horrible uncle and delinquent brothers. She had no job and no money besides the quarter she had been saving up for her birthday. Somehow she had snuck it past her uncle's notice. He and her brothers usually spent her hard-earned money on gambling and alcohol.

Annabelle stood in the middle of the dim street and screamed. She hadn't cried since her mother passed away nearly nine years ago. She screamed instead. She didn't even know whether she even could cry anymore.

It was a loud, powerful scream that echoed through the quiet street, the sound magnified by the quiet of the snow.

"Whoa!" said a voice from behind her. A male voice. It startled her. She reared back and punched blindly into the darkness. She had the satisfaction of making contact.

"Ah!" said the boy. He rubbed his jaw where she had hit him. "Was that really necessary?"

"You startled me." Annabelle said simply. She got a closer look at the boy. He didn't seem like much of a threat, he was about her height, 'maybe' an inch taller, and not particularly built. He was maybe a year or two older than her. Oscar's age, probably. Annabelle continued glaring at him.

"That was quite a scream," he said.

Annabelle rolled her eyes and turned on her heel and kept walking down the street. "What of it?" she had no intent to keep talking. He would probably make fun of her.

"Hey," he jogged a bit to catch up with her. "Ya hear a lady screamin' in the middle a' the street at night and ya need to see if she's ok. Any gentleman would-"

He bumped into her as Annabelle stopped abruptly.

"I'm ok, see? " She paused just long enough for him to glance at her. "Now leave me alone."

This time the boy reached for her wrist. "What are you doin' out here so late? Don't you know there's a curfew. If the bulls catch you they'll put you in the Refuge."

Annabelle cursed out loud. She forgot about that small detail.

She had no desire to have her name added to the Refuge's roster. Not before her brothers.

Annabelle had only just found out about her brothers' trial. According to the newspapers they had allegedly assisted in the kidnapping of two newsgirls. The boys that worked in the factory said it was over a turf war or something like that. She had also heard rumors that the were involved in an attempted murder. Annabelle knew her brothers were crooks by she didn't think they would ever go that far. If they had, money was probably involved.

"You should be home," the boy said as he tried to hide his bemused smile at her colorful language. "Are ya lost? I can help you find your way back."

Annabelle looked at him for a moment. "I don't have a home," she said flatly. "They kicked me out."

"Oh... "

A cold wind howled down the street. Annabelle pulled her coat tighter.

"So ya got no place to sleep?"

"Yeah," she snapped. He was stating the obvious. She kept walking and this time he made no move to follow her. 'Makes sense,' she thought, 'A homeless girl wouldn't have anything worth stealing.' But she shook her head. If he did want to rob her he would have done it already. Why would he take the chance to talk to her?

"Why don't you come back to my place," the boy called. "Even if it's just to get warm for a little while."

Annabelle turned back around and looked at the boy. He seemed kind and sincere. It's not like she had any options. Maybe she could trust him. What did she have to lose?

"Fine," she sighed.

The boy smiled and offered his arm. Normally Annabelle would have ignored this gesture but the roads were so icy tonight. She didn't want to add a broken bone to her stroke of bad luck. Besides, it was freezing tonight. Any extra warmth was welcome.

"It's not too far from here. We'll get you inside in no time."

"Hey," Annabelle said suddenly. "Why are you out out so late?"

"Comin' home from work."

"At this hour? Aren't you worried about the 'bulls' too?"

"Nah," he said, smirking. "The coppers wouldn't know what to do without me."

Annabelle scoffed and rolled her eyes. "And why is that?" How would a regular boy like him be of any value to the police officers?

"Who would bet for them at the races while they're workin' on the beat?"

Annabelle stiffened, but before she could say anything the boy said, "We're here."


	2. Chapter 2

They hadn't gone too far from the circulation building, but Annabelle didn't know where she was. She expected to be taken to one of those shared tenant apartments. Any of the kids who didn't live at the factory usually lived with their families in one of those. Annabelle had tried not to be jealous of them when they left for the weekend. Some complained of the cramped quarters that they had to share with their siblings, parents, and sometimes perfect strangers. But to return after a week of working, to return to loving parents and the warmth and security of a real _home_... That would be paradise for Annabelle.

This was not an apartment building. Was it an orphanage? No, there was a light in almost every window and the noise coming from inside was much too joyful, at least according to what she had read in books and heard from her friends. She could hear the sound of piano music and laughter. Something she had missed a long time ago.

The boy held open the door for her and she entered the building after kicking the snow from her boots. The scene inside was overwhelming. There were boys everywhere. Boys sitting around a table. Boys by the fire. Boys laying all across the floor playing with marbles and other small toys. Annabelle instantly regretted her decision to follow this boy home. What had she gotten herself into? She should have been used to this, since she spent most of her life living with her brothers and her uncle, but she couldn't stay here tonight. What kind of girl would that make her?

The boy shut the door behind them. "Hey'ya fellas," he said.

A bubbly girl with golden hair and eyes bluer than the dress she was wearing stopped abruptly and ran over to them. Annabelle was relieved to see another female face in this room full of boys.

At a second glance of the room Annabelle noticed a few figures with long, well-kept hair and dresses. So there were a few girls here. One was playing the piano and one played on the floor with some younger kids. Another still sat on a couch with one of the boys. Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. So her honor wouldn't be compromised after all. Maybe this was an orphanage.

"Race, we've been waitin' all night for you," said the girl. "What took ya so long?"

"Some real good racin' tonight, had to stay late."

"Yeah right," the girl said, then she noticed Annabelle.

Spark looked at the two of them for a second and gave a mischievous smile, her bright blue eyes twinkling. "Hey, fellas," she called over her shoulder.

"Aw, Spark, come on!" Racetrack said. Annabelle gave him a confused glance.

"Look who Racetrack brought home!"

All eyes turned to Annabelle and Racetrack. Several of the older boys began teasing them.

"Wow, Race," said Mush. "I thought you never woulda brought a girl home."

"Looks like our Racetrack's all grown up." Kid Blink added, wiping away an imaginary tear. Some of the boys laughed.

"Ha, ha, very funny," said Race. He turned back to Annabelle. He couldn't tell whether her face was red from the cold or embarrassment. "I'm sorry about this. This is the last thing you need on a night like tonight." He led her farther into the room. Spark skipped on ahead shouting something about cards.

"It's alright," Annabelle answered.

Three boys came down the stairs.

"Are we startin' finally?" One asked. His eyes landed on Annabelle. "Race, you wanna introduce your friend here?"

"Oh, uh," said Racetrack. _Stupid_. He forgot to ask for her name before taking her home. The boys would not let him live this down. "This is, uh…"

The girl rescued him. "Annabelle," she said, offering her hand to shake.

Racetrack spoke before he could think. "That's real pretty."

"Oh, thank you," Annabelle answered quickly.

Racetrack cleared his throat uncomfortably. "And, uh, these are some friends of mine: Jack Kelly, David Jacobs, and Les."

"Nice to meet you, Annabelle." said David, taking her hand.

Les and Jack both took turns shaking her hand as well.

Annabelle studied Jack's face. _Jack Kelly_ , where had she heard that name before? And it wasn't just Jack. David Jacobs… Spark… Where had she heard these names before?

She was about to say something when she caught what Racetrack was saying.

"...She don't have a place to stay for the night so I thought we could help her out or somethin'."

"'Course we can," said Jack. "Anything for Racetrack's girl."

Race felt himself beginning to blush. "Jack, she's not-"

"Hey Annabelle," Les tugged on her coat sleeve. "You got a last name?" He was the youngest of the three boys, He couldn't have been more than ten years old.

Jack and David both smacked the back of his head.

"Les," David started. "You can't just ask people that, what if-"

"It's alright," said Annabelle, "I do have a last name, it's Delancey."

The whole room went dead silent. All eyes were on her.

"...Delancey?" Jack asked after a moment.

"...Yes..." Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

 _Great_ , she thought. _Uncle Weasel probably owes them money or something. There goes my shelter for the night._

"No, it's just…" Jack trailed off.

Annabelle spotted a bag slung over Racetrack's shoulder. A newspaper bag. _He's a newsie._

"A-any relation to Oscar and Morris Delancey?" David stammered. That explained their strange reaction.

"Uh, yes…" Annabelle confessed reluctantly. "They're my older brothers."

Annabelle didn't like the way everyone was staring at her, especially the way Racetrack gaped at her. She silently cursed her brothers for ruining another thing for her.

"You must be cold," said David, finally changing the subject. "Why don't you come inside by the fire?"

Annabelle let go of Racetrack's arm. She didn't even realize she was still holding onto him.

David led her to the hearth as the sound of the room crescendoed to its normal volume.

"Hey, Story can you keep Annabelle company while Racetrack plays his game?"

"Sure," Story smiled. David joined the other boys at the poker table.

"Anybody who's playin' get over here right now or we're startin' without yous!" Spark said. "And Prima, you can't cheat for Snoddy this time."

"Fine," said a dark-haired girl who took a seat near Spark.

"You can be my good luck charm," said the handsome boy next to her.

The girl smirked. "Not if I beat you."

The boy - Snoddy, Anabelle assumed - put his hand to his heart as if he was hurt by her betrayal but he smiled.

"You ain't startin' without me!" A boy sitting on the couch shouted. He was struggling with a crutch.

"Let me help you," said the girl who was sitting with him.

"I don't need your help." He said angrily, shrugging off her hand.

The girl was obviously hurt by his rejection. "But Spot, I-"

"I said, NO!"

The girl stood there stunned for a moment. A few of the newsies nearby whispered to each other.

The girl scoffed. "Fine, then!" She stomped off to the piano and began playing angrily. Annabelle thought she recognized the tune as a popular song, but she didn't recall it the tempo being so fast or frantic.

The boy shook his as he watched the girl for a second. Then he turned back to his own task. Annabelle watched him struggle for a few moments until he finally stood up. She could hear him cursing under his breath. She caught a glint of silver near the boy's ankle. A brace?

"What's wrong with him?" She hadn't meant to say it out loud.

He turned quicker than Annabelle expected. His glare was intense and his eyes were a cold, piercing blue. The color of the sea before a storm. She could feel the color drain from her face. "I was shot." He said seriously.

Annabelle blinked after a second. "O-oh."

The boy turned his back, his posture stiff and straight. The line was only broken when he and hobbled over to the table where a poker game had begun.

"Don't worry about him," said the girl returning from the piano. She was breathless after playing her rage-filled song. "Spot's been in a bad mood all month."

"It's understandable," Story said. "Don't you think?"

A strange look crossed the girl's face as she nodded, not taking her eyes off of the boy.

"I'm Chase, by the way, Chase Meyers." The girl said as she came back to reality. She smiled at Annabelle and sat down next to her.

"Chase…" Annabelle said. Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"What is it?" Chase asked.

Annabelle looked down. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Chase cocked her head.

"My brothers-" Chase Meyers was one of the girls who was kidnapped. It had only lasted for about two weeks, but Annabelle couldn't even imagine how the two girls felt. Locked in a cold, dark basement to be used as bait for a turf war. Not knowing what they would do to you or whether you would even make it out alive… Annabelle had been working hard at the mill over Christmas and New Years. If only she had been there maybe she could have done something...

Chase shook her head. "You don't need to apologize for them. You didn't have anything to do with it, right?" Chase gave a warm smile.

"No," Relief washed over Annabelle.

"Then it's fine." Chase sat down on the rug next to Story. "I can see that you're nothing like them. You're much prettier than either of them. And you have kind eyes." Chase smiled and then her gaze traveled towards the fire. She knew more about one particular Delancy Brother's eyes than she ever cared to.

"How come I've never seen you before," Story asked. "Since you're one of the Delanceys?"

"I don't work at the circulation building," she answered. "Thank goodness," Annabelle couldn't imagine what a nightmare it would be to work side by side with Oscar and Morris.

"Do you go to school?"

"No, I work- well I worked in a textile mill…"

Chase and Story shared a glance. "What happened?"

"I was fired."

"Oh…"

This wasn't an uncommon tale for the working kids. To the factory owners, they were expendable, cheap labor. They could afford to fire one over a tiny mistake because there would be hundreds of kids waiting in line to take the job.

"Are you gonna try to find work at another factory?" Story asked.

"I don't know," said Annabelle, "I hated working there to begin with. Maybe I can get a job as a shop girl or something…"

"That's a good idea," Chase said. "I know that Racetrack has some connections with some of the shop owners here in Manhattan. I'm sure he could help you find work."

Annabelle nodded, her eyes on the poker game. She felt an uncomfortable sinking feeling in her chest but she didn't know why.

* * *

 **A/N: Please bear with me as I write this story. I know the destination but I'm trying to figure out how to get there...**


	3. Chapter 3

Not wanting to press Annabelle with questions, Story returned to reading to the kids. Chase pulled one of the youngest boys onto her lap, he couldn't have been any more than five or six years old.

"'I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess.'"

Chase got closer to the circle to listen to the story and she pulled one of the youngest boys onto her lap, he couldn't have been any more than five or six years old.

"…'But think again," said the witch; "for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father's palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves…'"

The little boy gasped and hugged Chase.

"I know, it's scary," Chase said, stroking his hair. "But it will be ok in the end,"

"Promise?" said the boy.

"Promise."

Story continued. "'I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death…"

Annabelle could feel her eyes growing heavy as she listened to the story.

"'But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle that I ask…'"

And she succumbed to sleep.

"Hey," a voice whispered. "Hey, it's time to get up."

"…Huh?"

"We gotta figure out where you're goin' tonight,"

Annabelle opened her eyes. She jumped when she saw how close Racetrack was to her face.

"Oh, sorry," he said.

She blinked a few times to wake her tired eyes. Racetrack offered her his hand to help her up and she took it.

"Thanks,"

"Don't mention it," he said smiling.

"It's time to go home," Chase called.

"Can't wait to get back to my own bed." Spot said as he stood up.

"Well you're going to have to." Chase said simply.

"And why's that," He crossed his arms.

"You're going to stay in Manhattan so the doctors can keep an eye on you. Plus, it's not good for you to walk all that way in your condition. Medda said you can stay at her place."

"I'm not going to do that," he said. "I'm the king and-"

"And sometimes the king needs to rest!" The room went silent. "Why can't you see that I just want you to get better?"

If Annabelle wasn't mistaken, she could see tears welling up in Chase's eyes. It must have been hard for her. She finally gets away from her kidnappers and then the person she loves the most is shot right in front of her eyes.

Spot's gaze softened and he looked down. "Alright, ya got me. I'll stay."

"Thank you," Chase said, it was practically a whisper. But then she brightened and turned to Annabelle. "Racetrack said you don't have a place to stay for the night."

"That's right," she answered.

"I'm sure Kloppman can make some space for you here." Said Race You can probably sleep here on the couch," He looked her up and down for a moment, "Or I bet you're small enough to fit in the closet upstairs—if you want, that is."

"Nonsense," Chase said. She sounded scandalized. "A single girl spending the night in a house of fifty boys?"

"But Chase," said Racetrack. "Where else could she stay at this hour?"

Chase thought for a moment, then she turned back to Annabelle. "Why don't you come to Brooklyn with us? We live in the girls' lodging house."

"Mr. and Mrs. Casella would be happy to have you." Story added.

"And we can even give you some new clothes if you need 'em." said Spark. "We'd all be willing to share."

Annabelle was touched, these girls who she had just met already cared about her more than her own flesh and blood did. But there was something holding her back. "Thank you, but Manhattan's all I've known. I- I don't know whether I'm ready to leave quite yet." Even though most of her memories in Manhattan were bad ones, it was still home.

"What about Medda's?" Spot chimed in. "She's got plenty a' room and I don't think she'd mind if Annabelle stayed there."

"That's a good idea," Racetrack said. "Medda's place is safe but it's still here in Manhattan."

"And I can protect you if there's any problems," Spot crossed his arms and smirked.

Race felt a pang of jealousy that Spot was going to spend the night at the same place as Annabelle, but Chase was right, it wouldn't be proper (or comfortable) for her to stay at the lodging house. He could see her tomorrow.

"Is that ok with you, Annabelle?" Racetrack asked.

"I don't want to impose…"

"It's not imposin' if you're invited," said Spark. "Medda's doors are always open to the newsies _and_ our friends."

Annabelle smiled. "Ok,"

"Then it's settled," Chase said. "Now let's go home!" She led the way out the door, leaving Spot behind. He frowned but he followed.

"Come on," Spark said to Mush, just as Prima passed them, dragging Snoddy towards the door. Story and David held hands as Les trailed behind them.

With that many boys going, there really was no reason for Racetrack to go with them. But oh, how he wanted to.

"Uh," he said. "Looks like you're in good hands."

"Yes," said Annabelle. "And it's all thanks to you,"

"Oh," Racetrack could feel his cheeks flush. "It was nothing,"

"I could be freezing on the street right now, so it was something."

"Yeah, well… Have Spot bring you here in the mornin' so I can help you find a new job."

"You don't have to do that—"

"I insist," Racetrack said abruptly. "I- I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ok," Annabelle smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He opened the door for her and waved goodbye. The group was waiting at the bottom of the steps.


	4. Chapter 4

With all of the couples, the only other not paired up was Les. He would not stop asking Annabelle questions.

"You ever been to Coney Island?"

"Um, no I haven—"

"Coney Island's the best! They have all kinds of rides like the Ferris wheel, a carousel, they got a nice beach nearby. Can you swim?"

"Yeah, my mom tau—"

"That's good. When the weather gets warmer I wanna go to the beach and swim and look for shells and…"

Annabelle thought he was cute, but she was relieved when David and Les split from the group to go back to their own home.

At the front of the group, Chase and Spot walked in silence. He was a few steps behind her, watching her back. Chase walked ahead with purpose. Usually she would walk with him, especially since he was injured. But now she was just four feet in front of him and he _missed_ her.

"L-listen," said Spot. He kept his eyes on the ground. "Chase,"

"Oh, you're trying to talk to me civilly now?" Chase turned around and smiled but her tone was sharp. Spot didn't seem to notice. He stopped in the street and allowed the others to pass them. Spark gave Chase a wink over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about earlier,"

Chase blinked. She never thought she would hear that word come out of Spot's mouth.. This was not like him.

"I been all frustrated an antsy 'cause of all this and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Chase tried to hide a small smile. She liked this humbled side of Spot and she didn't want to spook him. It was rare for him to actually apologize for something. As the king he never needed to (or rather, he didn't ever believe he needed to). If they fought, Chase would take some time to herself and try to forgive him. But now he actually said 'sorry'.

"I understand," she said.

"You do?" Spot let his eyes meet hers.

"Yeah, I was in a similar situation before, remember?"

"Oh, right,"

"I know you're trying to be the tough Spot Conlon that all of New York fears," Chase hugged him. "But you can't do it all on your own."

"I know,"

"It's my turn to worry about you, so please just let me."

Spot absentmindedly stroked her blonde curls. "Ok," he sighed. "I'll try."

They caught up with the others a block down by the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Well, this is where we part ways, sweetheart," Mush said to Spark.

"Aww," Spark frowned.

"Actually, Mush," Spot interjected as the couple began to lean in for their hundredth kiss of the day. "I need you and Snoddy to walk the girls back to the lodging house. It's after midnight, you know."

"That means we get some more time!" Spark jumped into Mush's arms.

He caught her without a second of hesitation. "Whoa, ya gotta warn me when you're gonna do somethin' like that,"

Chase and Spot turned back to each other.

"Thank you," Spot said. "For carin' so much about me."

"It's because I love you," It was Chase's turn to look at the ground. Both of them blushed.

"Ha, a year ago I never thought I would have someone say that to a worthless guttersnipe like me."

Chase threw her arms around his neck and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Don't say that,"

Spot smirked, "Alright then, not worthless, just a regular guttersnipe."

Chase laughed and Spot couldn't help but smile too. She almost never let her guard down, not even in front of him. But in moments like these when she thought no one was paying attention, Spot could tell that she was slowly warming up again. Spot wished he had Denton's camera with him, so he could take a picture of Chase's smile and keep it forever.

"Well, you should probably go. It's late and the Casellas are probably worryin'."

"Ok," said Chase. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Uh- mmmm…!" She kissed Spot before he could say another word. The others laughed.

"Ok then," Chase grabbed her brother's arm and began to walk ahead.

"Hey, come back here," said Spot. His tone was bemused but firm. "What's this about you comin' in the morning? I still don't want you to come here alone, especially without me there with you."

"But darling," Chase whined, smiling sweetly like a spoiled little girl trying to get her way. "I want to sell papers with you tomorrow. Brooklyn's no fun without you." She didn't mention the fact that Spot probably couldn't protect her very well in the state he was in. She didn't want to hurt his pride while he was already down.

"Me and the boys can come get them tomorrow morning." Mush volunteered.

"We should probably just spend the night in Brooklyn," Snoddy muttered. "With all the time we spend walkin' back and forth."

"Yeah," said Spark.

"Seems like a plan to me," Prima slid her hands up to Snoddy's shoulders and stood on her tiptoes for a kiss.

"No!" Spot and Chase both exclaimed.

"You guys are no fun!" Prima pouted and crossed her arms.

"You can't be serious," said Chase. "You can't spend a few hours away from him?"

Prima sighed dramatically, "Fine." But she smiled when Snoddy put his arm around her.

As Snoddy, Prima, Spark, Mush, and Story made their way towards the bridge, Chase shook her head. "Those two girls are impossible," she said.

"But I think I know how they feel," Spot put his arms around Chase's waist and pulled her close.

"Spot—" She blushed again.

He smiled. "Sweet dreams," and he kissed her on the forehead.

* * *

Annabelle's footsteps and the click of Spot's crutch echoed deafeningly down the icy street. The silence was painful.

"So you're a Delancey." Spot said breaking the silence.

Annabelle wasn't sure what to say. She had heard rumors about Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, from her time at the factory. It seemed like every working kid in New York feared him. Except maybe Chase Meyers and Jack Kelly.

"…Yes," she answered finally.

"You don't look like them," he said.

Spot was right. Besides her dark hair and brown eyes, she bore no resemblance to Weasel or the Delancey Brothers.

"Oh," said Annabelle. "I've been told I look like my mother."

"Didn't know they even had a mother," Spot gave a little laugh, "Thought they crawled outta some hole in the gutter."

When Annabelle didn't answer Spot cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh, sorry."

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry about it," Annabelle said, "I was just picturing that,"

"So a Delancey don't even like the Delancey's,"

"It's not like they've given me a reason to," Annabelle's tone was flat.

"If you don't mind me askin'," said Spot. "Do they ever hit ya?"

Annabelle paused for a second, trying to decide if she should answer his question.

"Ya don't hafta answer if you don't wanna,"

Annabelle did a quick smile. "No, it's alright, yeah they did hit me sometimes."

Spot's eyes flashed with anger and he reached for his cane. "Filthy sons of-"

Annabelle put her hand on Spot's shoulder. "But I learned to fight back pretty well though."'

"Good."

Annabelle noticed that the buildings on the street around them were beginning to look nicer and well-kept.

"You have friends that live _here_?" She asked.

"Yeah, we do, Medda Larkin, you know the cabaret singer?"

Annabelle had heard the name before. "And she can afford to live in such a fancy part of town?"

"She owns Irving Hall, or at least what's left of it…" said Spot.

Annabelle remembered reading in the paper about the theatre fire.

"They're rebuildin' it but most of it's gone right now. But the audience can't get enough a' her so she's performin' at her friend's theatre."

"Still," Annabelle marveled. "I've never seen so many nice houses in New York." She never visited this part of town because she was always working in the factory.

Spot and Annabelle came upon Medda's house. Across the street were the remains of Irving Hall. Charred piles of wood surrounded what must have once been a staircase.

Medda let them inside right away, without asking for an explanation. The newsies were right, she was so kind. Medda insisted on serving tea and cookies to them before bed. Annabelle couldn't remember the last time she had a cookie. Probably right before her mother's death.

Then she took Annabelle up to her room. She even gave her clothes that she had bought for Chase and the other girls.

"You can keep them," Medda said. "I can always buy more later."

"Thank you,"

"You're very welcome, darling. A sweet girl like you doesn't deserve to be left alone on the streets. You've had to deal with so much."

Annabelle felt like she was going to cry. She had been shown so much kindness in one night. More than she ever felt working in the factory or living with her brothers.

Medda hugged the girl tightly. "Now," she said. "If you need anything, my husband and I are just down the hall, and of course, Spot is right next door. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Annabelle smiled, "Goodnight."


	5. Chapter 5

_BANG!_

 _The echo reverberated in Spot's head which faded into a dull ringing in his ear. His right hand was shaking as he held what was left of an exploded pistol. He could feel warm liquid dripping down his arm. Blood._

 _"Clever, Conlon." Shade said, wiping blood from his lip. "I gotta say I did not expect that."_

 _Chase was standing next to Shade, her eyes wide with surprise and terror. The bullet catch had not gone as planned. Not for Shade and not for Spot._

 _Spot threw aside the broken gun._

 _"You," he spat. "You were gonna have me kill her!"_

 _"Brilliant plan, wasn't it?" Shade smiled. He pushed Chase to the ground in front of him and he pulled out another pistol._

 _"No!" Spot ran toward her but Shade was too fast._

 _BANG!_

 _Chase collapsed to the ground._

 _"NO!"_

 _Spot knelt on the floor near her crumpled form, pulling her head onto his lap._

 _"Chase, I," he started. Warm, sticky blood stained the bodice of her dress and his pants. Spot covered her bullet wound with his hand, trying to apply pressure to stop the bleeding._

 _"S- s-pot," Her normally vibrant green eyes were growing dim and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. "W- why d-d-didn't you s-save me?"_

 _"I- I tried," The words caught it Spot's throat. "Chase, I'm sorry."_

 _"Wh-why d-did y-y-y-you l-let th-em-"_

 _"No, I didn't mean to," Spot started to cry. "It was an accident—"_

 _A single tear rolled down her cheek and she shook her head. Her breaths were shallow and labored as she closed her eyes. She was fading fast._

 _"Chase, no! Stay with me!"_

 _But it was too late. She went limp in his arms and her breathing stopped._

 _"No," he said. Tears blurred Spot's vision, and he held Chase close and cried. "Don't leave me,"_

 _Shade laughed maniacally, his dark eyes glowing with pleasure and rage. He cocked the pistol once more. "Your turn, Conlon."_

 _BANG!_

 _"See you in Hell…"_

* * *

Spot awoke in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face. He was in a bed, not the stage of Irving Hall.

By the sound of the church bells it had just struck 4:00 in the morning.

"It was a dream," he said out loud. "Just a dream."

But it had felt so real. He shivered as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Chase was safe. She was in Brooklyn, sleeping in her own bed. She was with Spark and Story and the rest of the newsgirls. And he would get to see her once the sun came up.

Spot felt a sharp pain in his leg from his own bullet wound. He tried to shake it off and ignore it.

Spot got out of bed and pulled on his pants and suspenders. At this point, there was no going back to sleep. He made the bed as best as he could with a crutch, and he quickly scrawled out a note to leave for Medda.

"Spot?"

He jumped, stifling a shout. Reaching for his cane he turned around.

"Sorry," Annabelle looked down sheepishly.

"It's alright," he said, his heartbeat pounding. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to be awake."

"Me neither."

Spot exhaled a breath. "Speaking of which, why _are_ you up right now?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said. "At the mill, we always woke up at this time for work."

"Really?" Spot didn't realize that there were people in this city who worked earlier than the newsies and street cleaners.

"Yeah, the foreman always wanted us to be ahead of schedule so he made us start early."

"That doesn't seem fair," said Spot.

"It's what we've always done." Annabelle shrugged.

There was a pause for a moment.

"Well," said Spot. "Since you're up already, wanna come with me to the lodging house?"

"Sure,"

Spot finished writing his note to Medda, adding that Annabelle decided to come with him, and the two of them walked out the door. He offered Annabelle his arm, and she took it. She wanted to make sure he didn't slip on the ice.

The street was empty except for a few exhausted looking factory workers practically sleepwalking to work and a police man. Spot tipped his hat to the officer and continued on towards the Manhattan boys' lodging house. No one would be up at this hour but Kloppman usually kept the door unlocked through the night in case one of the boys came in late (this was usually Racetrack).

Spot felt like he was moving slower this morning. Was it because he had gotten so little sleep? His leg felt like lead. _It's all in my head,_ he thought. After having a terrifying dream like that, how could he not feel strange?

"Um, Spot," said Annabelle.

"Yes?"

She took a moment to choose her words wisely. "There's another reason I was up so early today."

Spot looked at her.

"I heard noises coming from your room, like yelling and crying." She looked ahead, avoiding Spot's piercing stare. She didn't know any boy that wouldn't be embarrassed by crying in front of a girl, but she was genuinely worried about him.

"Oh…" he said.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Annabelle had been prone to nightmares since she was very young. They didn't come as frequently now, but every once in a while, she would wake up screaming because of a terrible, vivid dream.

Spot could tell she was being sincere but he had no desire to relive that dream once again. "I'd rather not," he answered. "I just wanna take a bit to clear my head."

As they approached the circulation building, Annabelle clutched Spot's arm tighter. Spot seemed to stiffen as they passed as well.

Spot opened the door to the lodging house, careful not to allow it to screech as he closed it behind him. He could see a dim light coming from the downstairs hallway. There was a rustling sound inside.

 _Stay here._ Spot mouthed to her as he took a few more steps inside. "Hello?"

"Just a moment," someone called. It was Kloppman. "Spot, you're here early. Hello, Annabelle."

"We's couldn't sleep," said Spot. "But what are you doin' up right now?"

"Oh," said the older man. He led them into the hall. "I was just moving some things around in this closet. Racetrack wanted me to clear out the upstairs closet in case Annabelle wanted to stay here after all."

"You don't have to go through all that trouble for me," Annabelle said. "I'll find another place to stay permanently."

"I'm doing it because I want to," Kloppman said.

The floor in front of the closet was strewn with crates of all different sizes.

"Well at least let me help you," Annabelle kneeled on the ground.

Spot yawned. "I don't think I'm gonna be much of a help," he said. "I think I'll try to sleep before Chase gets here."

Spot walked off into the front room. Annabelle and Kloppman turned back to the boxes. On the top of one was a framed picture.

"May I?" said Annabelle.

"Go right ahead," Kloppman answered.

It was a photograph of a family. A man stood behind a woman who was seated with a child on her lap. She was beautiful, her long, dark hair framed her face nicely. The little boy on her lap looked to be no more than two years old. Annabelle saw that the boy looked like an equal mix of both of his parents, with thick dark hair and big eyes like this mother and the kind, gentle smile of his father. The man looked familiar.

"Is this you," Annabelle asked, pointing to the man.

"Yes," said Kloppman. "And that's my late wife, Sylvia and our son, Charlie. That picture was taken some thirty years ago, right before the two of them died." He gave a sad smile.

"How did they die?" The woman and child had looked so healthy in the picture.

"The Blue Death," Kloppman said. "Cholera. I worked long hours in a factory on the other side of town. I didn't realize they were sick until it was too late."

Annabelle fought back tears. She had lost her own mother to a terrible illness. "That must have been awful."

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't," said Kloppman. "But I know there are others who had it much worse. Women lost their husbands and had to take jobs just to support their families. Children were orphaned. A young boy who lived with us in our apartment lost all of his family members. When the two of us were the only ones left I took him in."

"That's," said Annabelle, "That was so kind of you,"

"I could see how the boy was struggling to go on. If my son was in the same position, I would have wanted someone to show him that same kindness. After the epidemic there was an influx of orphaned children with nowhere to go. I quit my job at the factory and I worked here at this lodging house and I brought the boy with me. Thirty years later I'm still here, providing a home for the newsies."

"And the boy? What happened to him?"

"Christopher, that's his name, grew up and started a family of his own. I believe he is now a journalist in San Francisco. He still writes to me. Let me see, I believe I have a picture of them somewhere… Ah, here it is."

This photograph was also framed, although it wasn't posed like the first one. A mother, father, and two little girls laughed as they played on the beach. Annabelle looked back to Kloppman. She could see tears sparkling in his eyes but as he looked at the picture he beamed with joy.

"Well," Kloppman sniffed. "Enough of that, the sun will be up soon so we'd better get this stuff put away."


	6. Chapter 6

"They left?"

"Yes, and Annabelle is gone too," said Medda. "Spot left me a note saying they woke up early so they left for the lodging house."

"Oh," Chase bit her lip. It wasn't that big of a deal but she hadn't expected Spot to leave without her, especially with the way he said goodbye to her last night.

"And I had planned on giving them these muffins for breakfast," Medda gestured towards a basket full of delicious looking cinnamon muffins. "The housekeeper and I stayed up last night to make them."

"Well we wouldn't want them to go to waste," Spark smirked, her stomach growling.

"Oh, yes, please take them," Medda handed her the basket. "These are for all the newsies."

The group set off for the lodging house. Snoddy and Prima, and Mush and Spark holding hands. Story and Chase trailed behind them.

"I wonder why he left so early," said Chase.

Story thought, "Maybe Annabelle wanted to see Racetrack bright and early this mornin',"

"I suppose that could be true," Chase said. "But they just barely met last night. And Racetrack said more than once that she wasn't his girl."

"True, but you know how quickly that can change." Story nodded towards Mush and Spark. It never ceased to amaze the other newsies how amorous the two of them could be. If they were older (and had more money), they would probably be married already.

The sky was just beginning to light when the group came to the lodging house.

"I'm gonna wait out here for Davey," said Story as she pulled a book out of her newspaper bag.

"Don't get too cold," said Chase.

Mush and Spark sat at the poker table as Spark did some card tricks. Snoddy and Prima sat on the floor by the fire and cuddled, whispering to each other and laughing.

Spot was asleep on the couch, an open book on his lap, a French copy of "The Three Musketeers". Spot was nowhere near fluent in French like Chase was, but he had been picking it up quickly. He could understand the written language quite well, and sometimes he would leave Chase notes in French so they would be read by her eyes only. Chase admired his dedication.

"Spot," she whispered, sitting down next to him. She leaned in to kiss him. "It's time to wake up."

Chase kissed her sleeping prince softly on the lips, but she was startled as he laced his fingers behind her head and kissed her back.

"Spot," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "I- I didn't know you were awake."

"Good morning, Chase." Spot said smiling. "I wasn't, you just woke me up. I'm happy you got here safely,"

"I- I'm happy to see you too," Chase stammered. "And why wouldn't I get here safely? You made Nick and Snoddy wake up an hour earlier than normal, just to escort us here."

Spot avoided her eye contact. "No reason," she noticed that he was playing with the pink ribbon he had tied around his wrist.

"I see… Why did you leave Medda's so early? We walked all the way there and you were gone."

"Uh," said Spot as he thought up an excuse. "I woke up early and I wanted to stretch my legs."

" _Mhmm…_ " Chase could tell that he was hiding something behind that innocent smile of his, but she knew if she asked him directly he would deny it. She decided she would find another way to get it out of him. "Don't wake up earlier than you need to. You'll heal better if you get all the sleep you can."

"Ok, I will."

She noticed that Spot's face was flushed too. She touched his cheek. "Spot, you feel warm,"

"I do?" he smirked. "Must be from that good mornin' kiss."

"It doesn't feel like that,"

"Oh? Then probably from sittin' so close to the fire," Spot removed his coat. "That should be better."

* * *

"Last one," said Annabelle as she picked up the last box. "Oh, that's lovely," she breathed.

The box contained balls of clouded blue yarn and a few sets of knitting needles some buttons. The azure-colored wool melted into silvery gray and white. The colors reminded her of the ocean.

"Ah," Kloppman said. "Yes. My wife purchased those shortly after we were married. But she hadn't had the time to knit after Charlie was born."

"That's a shame," said Annabelle. "I bet whatever she made would have been beautiful."

She touched blue wool, it was some of the softest she had ever felt. This must have been very expensive yarn.

"Can you knit, Annabelle?" Kloppman asked.

"Yes,"

"Then you should take them, the yarn and the knitting needles. And the buttons if you would like,"

"Oh, I couldn't."

"You said so yourself that it would be a shame for it to go to waste. This yarn has been sitting in the closet for decades, you should use it." He found an old newspaper bag for her to put the yarn and needles in.

Annabelle beamed, "Ok, thank you very much!"

Kloppman excused himself to go upstairs and wake the rest of the sleeping newsies. Annabelle found the others in the front room.

"Good morning, Annabelle," said Spark.

"Good morning, when did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," said Mush. "We were surprised that you and Spot left Medda's."

"Oh, that," Annabelle said. "We were both up so we figured we'd get a head start coming here."

"Ah,"

Annabelle sat on the floor next to Prima and Snoddy.

"What's that?" Prima nodded toward Annabelle's bag.

"Yarn and knitting needles," she answered. "Kloppman gave them to me."

"That's gorgeous!" Prima exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like it." Growing up as a performer, Prima had seen and worn many fine fabrics, but this misty blue yarn was new.

"You can knit?" Chase asked from the couch. "Would you teach me?"

"Of course, it's easy," said Annabelle.

The lodging house door opened and in walked Story and David, along with three people Annabelle didn't know.

"Hey, Skittery, where you been all night?" asked Snoddy.

Skittery smiled smugly. "Spent the night with Helena at Denton's."

Chase and the other girls gaped.

Helena blushed. "I just didn't want him walking here so late at night, with how icy the road is. Nothing improper happened, I promise. We were in separate rooms."

"Why you gotta tell them that?" Skittery put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I don't want them getting the wrong idea."

Denton, Story, and David laughed.

"Hey," said Skittery as his eyes landed on Annabelle. "Who's the new girl?"

"Don't be rude," said Chase. "She's Racetrack's friend."

"Oh… Friend…" Skittery smirked.

"It's not like that, idiot," said Racetrack as he tromped down the steps. "She had no place to stay last night so I figured I'd help her out."

"Please, I'm just happy you're growin' up already."

Racetrack just glared at Skittery. He didn't want to start a fight in front of Annabelle over a stupid thing like this. It would be better to just ignore him.

"Good mornin', Annabelle," he said.

She smiled. "Good morning, Racetrack."

"Ya sleep good?"

"Yes, it was probably the best night's sleep I've ever had in my life. See, no dark circles or anything." She pointed to her eyes.

Racetrack laughed, she was so cute. "I'm glad,"

"Alright everybody," Jack Kelly called from the top of the steps. "Let's get our papes and get movin'!" He led the way outside, most of the newsies following closely behind.

"Nick," Chase called. Mush made his way over to her. "I'm going to stay here with Spot, could you get us 200 papes, please?" She pulled four quarters out of her pocket.

"'Course," Mush took the coins and rejoined Spark and the rest of the group.

"Uh," Racetrack said to Annabelle. "You should probably stay here too, since I gotta go where your brothers are—but I promise I will come back when I'm done over there."

"Ok," she answered.

Racetrack smile. "See ya later then."

As she waited, Annabelle took out some yarn and the knitting needles and she began to cast on.

* * *

Racetrack followed the rest of the newsies to the circulation building. The headline wasn't great but it wasn't bad either. He would probably sell all of his papes today, even if he didn't go to Sheepshead.

"Next," said Weasel.

Racetrack stepped up. "Hundred papes," he slapped two quarters on the counter.

"Hundred papes for Racetrack!" Weasel called over his shoulder. "Ya didn't ask me to spot you some papes. Not goin' to Sheepshead?"

"Yeah," said Oscar. "Losin' streak finally catchin' up to you?" The Delanceys laughed.

Racetrack glared at them. "I got some business to take care of," He was never fond of the Delanceys, especially after they had kidnapped Spark and Chase. But now that he knew that they threw Annabelle out on the street, he hated them even more. He snatched his papers out of Weasel's hand before they could say anything more.

"Hey, Race," said Mush as Racetrack exited the gates. "Can you take these to Spot and Rosie? Me and Spark wanna get started sellin'."

"Sure," He took the extra papes from Mush and they parted ways. Skittery was also going back to the lodging house to see Helena.

"So ya finally got a girl," said Skittery.

Race rolled his eyes. "I already told ya, she's not my girl.

"Ok," but Skittery didn't seem convinced.

"I was comin' home from Sheepshead last night and she was out on the street. Her family kicked her out for losing her job."

"Ah, so that's it. Ain't that great to have a family after all."

"We already knew that." Said Racetrack. Not all of the newsies were orphans. Some were kicked out of their homes like Annabelle and some ran away. Racetrack had lived with his grandparents up until he was around thirteen, but he couldn't stand living in that small, filthy apartment with two other families who didn't speak English or Italian. He moved to the Manhattan lodging house permanently and he never looked back.

"You gonna teach her to be a newsie?"

"Nah, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not, she's too good for that or somethin'?"

"No," said Race. "She's a Delancey."


	7. Chapter 7

Skittery blinked at Racetrack. "A Delancey…"

"That was my reaction too," said Racetrack. "But she's nothin' like them,"

"Yeah, she's so… Pleasant."

The boys arrived at the lodging house just as the clock struck 8.

"Cross the left needle in front of the right one… Good. Now put the working yarn between the two needles…"

Annabelle, Helena, and Chase were seated on the floor while Spot watched. Helena and Chase were each clumsily holding wooden knitting needles. They were surrounded by pools of blue yarn. Annabelle, on the other hand, had a few neat completed rows of knitting on one of her needles. She was trying to teach the other two how to knit.

"This is so difficult!" Chase exclaimed, but she smiled.

"You just need some patience, it takes time to learn." Said Annabelle.

"Ha," Spot scoffed. "I don't think she could be patient if her life depended on it."

"Hey!" Chase said. "I waited three whole years for you to realize I liked you!"

"Well you shoulda just told me up front."

"I thought you were smart enough to figure it out on your own." Chase smirked.

Spot closed his mouth, succumbing to a small smile at her retort. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Oh, hi, Racetrack," said Annabelle as she saw him and Skittery coming through the door.

"Hey," he answered. "Chase, these papes is for you and Spot."

"Thanks," she said. "Nick and Spark couldn't wait a few extra minutes to come here?"

"Guess not."

Spot steadied his crutch and stood up. "Come on, Sweetheart," he said.

She looked down at the tendrils of tangled yarn around her. "It's probably going to be a few minutes…"

"That's alright," said Annabelle. "I can clean it up myself. It's my yarn, after all."

Chase turned to her. "Are you sure?"

"I can help too," Race volunteered.

Spot and Chase shared a look. "Ok, then…"

She took Spot's arm and they headed for the door.

"Hey, yous stayin' for poker later tonight?" Racetrack asked as he knelt on the floor by Annabelle.

"'Course we are!" Spot called.

"See yous later!"

Racetrack grabbed a ball of yarn and began winding it up. "So we gotta find you a job." He said.

"Yes… Do you have any ideas? I've never worked anywhere besides the factory."

"Ha, and I've never been nothin' more than a newsie," Race smirked. "What did you do at that factory anyway?"

"It was a textile mill."

Racetrack stared at her blankly.

"We made fabric,"

"Oh, yeah," he tried to look as if he already knew that. They were done cleaning up the yarn. Racetrack stood up and offered Annabelle his hand. "What was it like?"

The two of them walked outside as Annabelle spoke.

"The days were long and the air was always filled with thick cotton dust and it was stifling. We always kept the windows shut. Even in the summertime. The foreman said that the fabric came out better if we kept the wind and the sun out. Some days it was like working in an oven."

"That sounds terrible," said Racetrack.

Annabelle shrugged. "It was work," she said. "And it kept me away from my uncle and my brothers most of the time. A lot of us lived at the mill too."

The wind began to pick up and Annabelle pulled her coat tighter around her. Racetrack offered her his arm, insisting to himself that it was just for extra warmth, nothing more. She took it.

"I did like the kids that I worked with, mostly girls my own age and a lot of little kids. After curfew we would tell ghost stories to each other in our room. And sometimes we'd—" Annabelle began to blush.

"You'd what?" Racetrack cocked his head, thinking the flush on her cheeks came from the cold air.

"We would talk about what our future husbands would be like, our weddings, the families we wanted to have…" She laughed. "Sometimes we even came up with names for our future children."

Racetrack smiled. "So that's what girls talk about when they's alone," It was something he had always wondered.

Annabelle looked down, "It's silly, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Not at all," In truth, it wasn't much different to what the boys talked about when the moon was high in the sky. When she was around him, Spark mostly talked about beating him at poker or how much she loved Mush. "So how'd you get fired?"

He felt bad for asking but at the same time he really wanted to know the story. Even though he'd only met her a day before, Racetrack knew Annabelle was a nice girl. He couldn't understand what she could have done to get fired from the factory.

"I stopped the machines,"

"Why?" he asked.

Annabelle took a deep breath. "A little girl almost got pulled into a machine."

"What?"

"We were finishing up a beautiful, purple fabric. I couldn't take my eyes off of it… Anyway, the foreman wanted the bolt done by the end of the day, it was ordered by some fancy, rich family and I heard that they were going to give him a bonus if it was finished quickly,"

Annabelle and Racetrack were both focused on the story, they really didn't pay any mind as to where they were going.

"So we were running the machine faster than usual, but some of the fabric got creased and folded wrong in the cloth roller. One of the little girls saw this and she slipped between the guard fence to fix it. Any of us would have done it, we didn't want to get the foreman mad, especially because this was such an important order."

Race realized they had come to central park. He led Annabelle to a bench and the two of them sat down together.

Annabelle continued. "Us girls were required to keep our hair tied up and covered so we wouldn't get caught by the looms. Most of the little kids just kept their hair short, and that worked fine most of the time. But this little one—she wanted to be like the big girls so she kept her hair long and in braids. One of her braids must have come loose from her kerchief and it got caught in the cloth roller."

Racetrack's eyes widened. "So what happened?"

"She screamed so loudly. I will never forget her terrified cries," Annabelle blinked back tears. "Just last year a kid died in an accident like this. And a year before that, another kid died in a small fire. I wasn't going to let it happen again," through the tears her expression was strong and defiant, "So I ordered the boys to stop the machine. I knew I could get in trouble, but I couldn't let her die, especially if I knew what to do to fix it.

He raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"I lived with these machines since I was six years old. Because the work was so tedious I often watched the looms go, I wanted to know how this magic worked. After all that time I became familiar with all of the different mechanisms, and the foreman would have me repair the machines sometimes to save a little money," Annabelle smiled a little, recalling these fascinating creations made by man. "I was able to dismantle the cloth roller and get the little girl's hair out. I also untangled the cloth so it wouldn't be ruined."

"So you were a hero!"

She frowned, "Well, the foreman didn't think so. I had stopped production for a whole thirty minutes and that infuriated him. He fired me right on the spot."

Racetrack put a comforting arm around her as she looked out into the street. "And ya had to go home later that night?"

"Yeah," said Annabelle. "I almost didn't go back to Uncle Weasel and my brothers. I was ready to hop a train to someplace else, but I couldn't leave my mom's picture at home." _Home_ meaning the circulation building.

"I see,"

She gave a cocky smile, "And then a newsie—or should I say, gallant knight, heard the screaming of a girl in trouble, and he came to save her."

Racetrack shook his head and laughed, "What are you talking about?"

"Well you did come running!"

"Yeah, well, little did I know that this girl had a strong right hook and don't need any savin'…"

* * *

 **A/N: I did a little research on weaving fabrics in the 1800s. Most of the information I found was from the 1830s, so technology probably improved a little, but I do know that sweatshop conditions were horrendous like I described. Probably worse. I think most fabrics were dyed after being woven, but I also read about people dying yarn before weaving. We're just going to go with the latter choice because it makes the story more interesting to me. Purple fabric vs white or grayish...**

 **I can't remember whether this idea for a factory girl being taken in by Racetrack came before or after "Underworld". Annabelle is somewhat based on my sister (most of my OCs are based on people in my life, there's even one that's _almost_ a self insertion ((not the same name or backstory, obviously)) *shhh, don't tell anyone* I mean, really, they all have a part of me in them anyway, but there is one character in particular that is very close in personality to me. There's probably an author's note in one of these stories that reveals it...Anyway...) my sister is fascinated with mechanical things and she's really good at taking things apart and putting them back together.**

 **Also, I just can't get Spot and Chase out of these stories! They always want to take the center of attention and I have at least three other couples that I should be developing! That was my intention for "Underworld", to not only introduce Helena and Skittery, but to show more of Davey and Story. They're just so hard to write for!**


	8. Chapter 8

Today Chase and Spot chose to sell by the great White Way near all of the theatres.

"How was Brooklyn?" Spot asked, ever concerned for his city.

"It was fine—oh, thank you, sir," Chase said as she handed a man his paper. "Rake has been keeping an eye on everything while Ruse and Charmer have been taking Ellie and Katrina out to sell papers."

"No Shadows?"

Chase shook her head. "None at all. They told me they've all been keeping a lookout for them."

"Good." Said Spot as he yawned.

"I think the police caught them all," Chase noticed the dark circles under his eyes. She studied his face. "Spot, if you're tired, why don't you take a rest on a bench." Between the two of them they had around fifteen papers left. "I can finish selling the rest of these, we have a little while before the evening edition comes out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be done before you know it."

"Ok," Spot made his way to the nearest bench and sat down. He watched Chase as she stood in the middle of the road, calling, "Extra, extra!" as she went. His eyelids grew heavy and the sounds of the street melted together until they were unintelligible. He drifted off.

Some time later Spot bolted awake. He didn't dream anything specific but he could still hear the echo of the gunshots and Shade's laughter. Spot looked around. _That's weird._ Where was Chase?

Spot stood up, "Chase, are you there?"

No answer. He tried to keep his cool. Maybe she just went inside a shop to get warm. Maybe she was taking with some other newsies around the corner. She would be back any moment, right?

The sun was almost down and Spot was beginning to feel nervous; besides a lamplighter the street was deserted.

"Sir," he called over to the lamplighter, trying to hide the anxious tone of his voice. "Have you seen a pretty blonde girl around here?"

The man shook his head. "There hasn't been anyone here but you for a while."

 _No._

Spot felt a sick feeling in his stomach. Not again. The shadows might have been arrested but the Delancey Brothers were still out on the streets.

"Chase!" he called, trying to run with his crutch. "Chase, where are you?" Spot began to panic. How could he have fallen asleep like that? He promised himself that he would never leave her again. "CHASE!"

He heard a person running for him. Spot spun around fast, slipping on the ice. When he looked up, Chase was standing over him.

"Spot, what's wrong?" She was out of breath from running. "You're as white as a sheet."

He sat up. "Ah," Spot winced. He would have a bruise on his tailbone from the fall. The steely glare of the King of Brooklyn came out. "Where did you go?" His tone was sharp and commanding.

Chase answered, taken aback by this harshness. "I-I went to go get the evening edition."

"You didn't tell me! What was I supposed to think happened to you?"

"Spot, you were asleep and I just went around the corner—"

"Are you an idiot? You can't just run off on your own!"

Chase almost snapped back at him. But something stopped her. His bright blue eyes betrayed him. What she saw in them was genuine fear. An emotion the Kind of Brooklyn never showed. Not even to her.

"Spot," Chase whispered. She helped him back onto the bench and wrapped her arms around him. "Spot, I'm sorry."

He held her tightly, cradling her head. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?"

It was easy for Chase to forget that the kidnapping didn't only affect her and Spark. As with many of the terrible occurrences in her life, she just wanted to forget about it and move on. But she needed to remember that the others' wounds (both literally and figuratively) were still very fresh.

"I won't do it again," she said. "I promise you."

They stayed like that for a moment. Chase swore she could hear Spot sniff a few times but she chose not to bring it up. The lamplighter probably thought they were two crazy, lovesick kids but they didn't care. Both of them had been through so much.

When they had a chance to breathe, Spot and Chase continued on their way. Chase had only purchased fifty copies of The Evening World and they sold them quickly. Chase held Spot's arm tightly and neither of them spoke until they approached the Manhattan lodging house again.

"I want you to stay here in 'Hattan with me tonight," Spot said after a while. "Th-that's not an order or nothin'" he added quickly. "I just really want you here with—"

"Ok," Chase answered.

Spot stopped abruptly and look at her, "Ya mean it?"

"Of course I do," Chase said. "I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't mean it."

He gave a relieved smile. "Snoddy and Mush can walk the girls back. They can stay in Brooklyn for all I care."

Chase crossed her arms. "Unless they plan on sleeping at the boys' lodging house tonight, they're not staying."

"Right. I don't think my boys would be too happy about a couple of Manhattan pansies taking up the beds there."

Chase laughed. "Don't call them that!"

"Yeah, who are you callin' 'pansies'?" someone said.

Spot and Chase whipped around. Spot reached for his cane.

It was just Racetrack and Annabelle.

"You scared us," Chase breathed.

"Sorry about that." Said Racetrack. "I just couldn't let Spot run me friends' names through the mud. Even if he is the King."

Spot smirked at him. "Wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true…"

The boys broke in to a small argument while the girls watched.

Annabelle shook her head. "Are they always like this?"

"Yeah…" Chase answered.

"What's a little friendly rivalry between boroughs?" Spot slid his arm around Chase's waist.

"I didn't think the words, 'friendly' and 'rivalry' could even go together." Chase was glad that even if it was for just a moment, Spot was releasing his tension.

"And besides," Spot said. "Race is practically a Brooklyn newsie anyway, what with him sellin' at Sheepshead all the time."

Annabelle cast her eyes to the ground. Sheepshead. The horse races.

Chase shivered. "Wh-why don't we continue this inside, it's getting cold."

Annabelle and Racetrack followed Chase and Spot to the lodging house steps. They were covered in thick ice. The two watched as Chase held onto Spot around his waist as they ascended the steps.

"Slowly, now," Chase said.

"Yeah, yeah," Spot set his crutch first as Chase stepped up. She half pulled him up the step. They repeated the process for the next one.

"Hey, Chase," said Racetrack. "Do ya think it would be easier if I helped?"

Spot answered for her, "We ain't need your help." He said through gritted teeth.

"I think we're—" Just as she spoke Chase slipped on the next step, deftly catching her balance at the last second. She raised an eyebrow and looked back at Spot.

"Alright," he said, swallowing his pride. "I don't want me girl gettin' hurt over somethin' like this."

Racetrack smirked. "Can't have both the king AND queen of Brooklyn out of commission."

"Heaven forbid," Said Chase as she crossed herself.

With Racetrack's help they made it into the lodging house, and the warmth, quickly.


	9. Update

**Update: I am going to put this story on pause for the time being. I don't have a clear outline at the moment and I want this story to be good so I'm going to take a break from this arc. However, I just came up with a new idea with a much more developed path and I think you'll all enjoy it. Keep an eye out for "On the Sidewalks of New York". I'm introducing even more new characters this time and I'm really excited for where this takes us!**


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